Joy
by dead.journal
Summary: A seven year old dead body. An eight year old witness. Who hasn't spoken in seven years. This is my first story please Read and Review and be kind. Rated T for future chapters. BB and Hodgela in later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

"When was the body found?" Temperance Brennan asked as she grabbed her case out of Booth's truck.

"About an hour and a half ago, sounds like it's been there awhile." Booth replied.

"Who owns the house, where are they and when were they last seen?"

"One question at a time, Bones. The house is owned by a Julia Morrison and she hasn't been seen in about seven years so I'm gonna guess that _that_ is either her or her doing."

"Lets not jump to conclusions. What are you doing?" The last part was not aimed at Booth, but rather at the cop bent over the body poking at the fingers of the right hand of the skeleton lying at the bottom of the stairs.

"Uh...trying to see what he is holding in his hand?" The uncertainty in his voice made Booth hide a smile as Bones glared at the man.

"I'm gonna need you to understand a few things. Ok?"

"Ok." He sounded even more scared now than he had the first time.

"First of all, that is a she, not a he. You can tell that by the shape of the pelvis. Second of all, if she is holding something in her hand then my team at the Jeffersonian can extract it the way it should be done. Not with a pair of tweezers that I seriously doubt that the origin is anywhere near sterile. And lastly I will not tolerate you coming within ten feet of me or this body for the next say 42 minutes and 37 seconds. Just to be finicky." She smirked as the guy quickly skirted the body and ducked out the front door.

"I think he was worried you were gonna go all Lara Croft on him."

"Who is Lara Croft?" It still astounded him, the genuine confusion in her eyes when someone quoted a movie. He forced down a smile and shook his head,

"Never mind, Bones, never mind."

"The victim is female, mid to late thirties and she has fractures to the radius and ulna of her left arm."

"So she broke her arm. How? She fall down the stairs?"

"I don't think so. The body is in the wrong place. It's more like she tried to defend herself against something coming down at her. See how her arm is across her chest? She raised it and it was struck back down hard enough to break the bones."

Just then a cop came down the stairs frowning. "The upstairs is clear except for one door that is jammed shut."

"Any idea what's behind it?"

"I'm not sure but if you look at these photos." He pointed to the set of pictures on the wall of the stairs.

"Are those school photos?" Booth felt his heart ice over at the thought of a child losing their mother die.

"Yeah, looks like it. There are three or four here so the kid would only have been what 7...8 years old."

Booth's face slammed shut, his eyes going cold. The shift was subtle but she saw it. His sniper mode. He wouldn't be letting this one go till the case was shut and someone was behind bars. "Booth..." He looked at her with ice in his gaze. "Is it a boy or a girl?" She shifted gears and stepped onto the bottom stair.

"A girl, unless you're going to put a boy in a pink school dress." Booth chuckled mirthlessly and started up the stairs.  
"Where are you going?" Bones followed him without hesitation.

"To check out the kid's room. Maybe we'll even find out her name and find her and get a clue as to who the hell did this."

"I didn't see a kid's room." The cop's frown increased in intensity. "It could be the jammed door, I guess."

"Why would the kid's door be locked shut but not any of the others? And if this is a murder why not remove the photos? Wouldn't it make more sense to remove all traces of a kid if they saw what you did or you planned on killing them?" Bones frowned now.

"Why?"

"Because, Officer..."

"Creely, ma'am."

"Officer Creely. If you are going to kill someone and don't want to get caught isn't it better to kill someone who is invisible?"

"Oh right." He looked at the floor and Booth smirked.

"Come on, Bones, stop embarrassing the man and help me get through this door."

Taking the stairs two at a time Bones followed her partner's voice up the stairs and into the upstairs hallway. Noticing something she stopped and crouched. "Hey Booth, check this out. There's blood drops along here."

"So someone was either carrying a blood covered object down this hall or was bleeding as they came down this hall." Booth moved back to where she knelt and then following the blood trail back to the jammed door.

"That can't mean anything good."


	2. Chapter 2

_Sorry about the delay in updating I have been on holiday and nowhere near a computer._

_This chapter is written from __Joy's perspective. _

_Disclaimer: Don't own Booth, Brennan, Angela, Hodgins or the others from the show. Joy and her family are mine though._

_Thank you to everyone who has reviewed and pointed out errors, hopefully there will be less of them this time. _

Seven years. That is a long time to keep a secret like mine. And it's all over now. Just like that it's over. It doesn't feel real yet, it won't until the cops find me and tell me that they found her and that she really is dead.

There is movement in my room now, one maybe two people. The window slides open then is released to slam shut. The sound is audible even from here-across the street and one house over from Mom's-and it sent an icy ripple through my mind as it touched memories, that I didn't want awakened. Especially now, sitting on the Rout's fence watching them wheel Mom's body out to the waiting van. Fighting the suffocating rush of emotions, twisting the purse strings around my finger to give my mind something, anything else to concentrate on, I don't notice the woman come down the front steps, moving towards me. Then she calls my name.

"Joy."

And suddenly I am eight years old, standing at the top of the stairs looking down at my mother's lifeless body. Hearing my name yelled but in anger now, not curiosity. Running away from her.

No, I can't. I can't run, not this time, not today. A hand lifts, reaching out to me from across the road, not hers but his-the suit that went in with her. None of this really registers, like hitting a glass pane-I can see the facts but I'm not recognising it. She calls my name again and the dam breaks. The emotions are there not just the images. Fear, anger and the urge to run hit me and I am fighting a losing battle. Fight or flight reaction that what it's called. Today, like every other day, flight beats fight and I hit the pavement running.

Down the alley, across the road and around the corner, then I am in the park. My haven. The one place I can pretend none of this ever happened. But not today, I can hear voices behind me, calling my name. Their problem is I know this park better than the people who designed it.

The playground is packed as I make my way through it, wading through games of tag and ducking under monkey bars that used to seem so much higher. Down past the bike rack and along the path. Onto the sidewalk again, turn left, cross the road and then I can see Dad's house. The empty black roaring in my ears starts as I hit the front door. I barely make it into my room before the blackness crashes over me.


End file.
